Post by hawkeye on Jun 8, 2019 13:16:31 GMT
Seated just to the right of her grounded opposition, Rita Carrick tightened her S-grip and craaaaaaaaaanked back on the Side Headlock hard enough to make the brunette growl in pain and anger. “Suddenly my number of followers doesn’t seem so important, does it sweetie?” the visiting Jungle star teased.
RITA CARRICK:
Not about to dignify such ignorance with a verbal reply, Lyssa Zahn planted both hands on the slippery floor of the Pit and pushed as high as her arms would allow. Doing so only increased the brawny band cinched around her skull, but the Tweeting Tyrant considered it a fair trade because it allowed her to slide one knee into place against the “UUUUUUNNNNGGGGGGHHHH!” Rita reared up beside the heavier battler, then pushed forward and dropped to her butt to SMECK-SLAP Zahn down flat on her belly once more! “Mouthy little bytch.” Lyssa growled as she resumed clawing and prizing at the newcomer’s knotted hands. “You’re going to f*cking canceled by the time I’m done with HEY, NO! NOOOEEERRRRRRHHHHHH!”
LYSSA ZAHN:
A round of surprised cheering from the Jacksonville crowd when Rita halved the Headlock long enough to stretch Lyssa’s left arm out and trap it between her thighs. Rather than resume the Headlock, Carrick secured her S-grip directly atop the Black Hat’s nose and wrenched back on a particularly energetic Crossface. “Cancelled?” Rita teased over the roar of capacity crowd. “Lyssa, I’m just getting started!”
Though the Pit hadn't yet made it to Bangor and FAWN's feeder, Carrick looked awfully comfortable in tugging the head and neck of the Tweetstormtrooper to uncomfortable angles, hoping to make it equally uncomfortable for Bethany Christian to put her on the shuttle north after tonight. Breaking her grip, she slipped her left arm tight against Lyssa's throat and used her right like a club, clunking her forearm across temple and brow. The beatdown after the stretch-out of the big leaguer had tongues wagging, most especially Zahn's who threatened violent reprisals.
But Lyssa had precious few answers when Rita took a seat on the base of her spine after having captured both wrists, drawing Lyssa's arms back as Rita made enough room to place her soles against the back of Zahn's skull. "All thumbs, aren't ya?" Carrick grunted as she forced Lyssa's face into the slippery blue plastic covering the Pit floor. "All about the cyber fights, but get in a good scrap and you're licking up baby oil." Rita began to punctuate, lifting her feet and banging them down, right, left, right, left atop the rear of Lyssa's braincase, bouncing her noggin against the Pit floor enthusiastically.
Growling, then yowling as Carrick played hateful Footsie with the back of her skull, Zahn continued to rock and writhe until--THERE!
She pulled her right hand free of Rita’s clutches and promptly raaaaaaaaaaaaked her nails down the length of the smaller wrestler’s shin. Rita grimaced but didn’t panic and she certainly didn’t give up her mount. Clambering forward onto her knees, she pulled Lyssa’s left arm beneath her own throat, then leaned back again and bap-bap-bap-BAPPED the ball of her left foot against the back of the Black Hat’s head.
Good for cheers, bad for Zahn’s temper, as the notoriously mercurial Pintrest Pin-Up powered to her knees in spite of the Straightjacket Choke. Expression showing a tinge of concern as her one-time mount turned into something more like a pony ride, Rita abruptly stood up and dropped into a deep squat, just THUMPING her butt against the small of Zahn’s back! Lyssa went down with a heavy grunt, Carrick’s pert tush keeping her pinned to the floor like a bug on a ca-- the Insta-Gator twisted out from beneath her opponent and scrambled to a seat of her own.
Smile gone now, Rita collected the bigger brunette’s free hand and cinched it across her neck, thus doubling down on the Straightjacket. Knee wedged between Zahn’s shoulders, Rita pulled back on the modified Chinlock and muttered, “You MAY be stronger than me, Lys. But there’s NO WAY you can match my tenacity. They don’t call me the Pit-Pull for nothing!”
Lyssa growled at the ridiculous moniker. After all, only her mountain of net-related nicknames were worthy of tongue-tips. Unfortunately this bytch from Bangor was rising to the occasion and the tight loop against each carotid had an increasingly nervous Zahn blinking her lids wide to clear her blurring vision. There's some relief when Rita let up on the pressure driving the bony cap of her knee between Lyssa's shoulderblades. But Zahn quickly found it's only so the Jungle native can rise to her feet, straightjacket still applied, and place her right foot behind the cranium of the Pinterest Pin-up.
"Don't even think..." Lyssa's idle threat was cut short as Carrick curbstomped Zahn's features into the Pit floor. Several inches of padding provided relief from the impact but when Rita let loose of her foe's upper limbs, it's clear Lyssa's been rocked. The generally surly brunette slithered along the oily floor, weakly locomoting forward while Rita pumped her fist toward the lucky FAWNatics who ring the enclosure.
"Did someone say something about canceled? Hashtag hasbeen!" Rita shouted, moving alongside Lyssa. Carrick kicked at her rival's ribs until she convinced Zahn to roll to her back. It's then Carrick leapt, legs extended, planning to drive what air remains out of Lyssa's lungs with a Senton across her foe's lightly tanned and glistening tummy. yt
Rita’s aim never faltered, unfortunately her target vanished beneath the armor of Lyssa’s upraised knees, leading her to THWHUMP spine-first atop the upraised joints! Pushing / launching the visiting tyro away with a savage kick of her folded legs, Zahn rolled to one knee and treated herself to several deep breaths all while keeping a very close eye on the grimacing Pit-Bull. “Throwing hashtags at me, nobody? That’s bold, I’ll give you that. But you know what bold gets you against me?” Carrick didn’t answer fast enough for the Black Hat’s liking, so Zahn stood up, stomped over to the prone brunette and leapt up just to THAWHAP down atop Rita’s chest with a gaudy Splash!
Give Carrick credit, she twisted to one side beneath Lyssa’s bulk to ensure she couldn’t be pinned, unfortunately this didn’t do her much good when the Snap Chat Savage buried both hands in her hair and bounced her face against the slippery floor no less than half a dozen times! “Got anything to say now, loser?” Zahn got to her feet and forced Rita to do the same with several violent tugs. “Strike that, it can wait until later. Right now it’s time I set your pathetic ass to Airplane Mode!”
With that she dipped a shoulder, slipped that arm between Carrick’s stems and muscled her onto her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry. Controlling Rita at thigh and neck, Lyssa turned a single slow circle to better display her prey. After that her speed increased exponentially, Zahn twirling and twirling despite the dangerous oil puddled and sloshing around her feet!
After a half dozen spins, the slippery surface finally got the better of Zahn, but Lyssa managed to use the stumble to fall into a squishy Samoan Drop that drew an 'OOOOH' from the crowd and an ’UNGH!’ from the shook Jungle native. Lyssa was a little dizzied by placing herself in Airplane Mode, reaching her haunches and shaking her skull to clear cobwebs.
Beside her, Rita's having trouble even staying on all fours. She started to lean forward and faceplanted with no further help from the Tweetstormtrooper. Pushing to her feet, Zahn braced a foot between the raised butt cheeks of the Pit-Bull and thrust her foe forward into a face-first sprawl. Climbing into a full-body pin of Rita's back, the boisterous brunette grapevined her legs around those of Carrick and stretched them wide, taking away any base Rita hoped to create and forcing the Pit-Bull to grit her teeth and mewls in discomfort, Lyssa testing her foe's flexibility.
Showing her vile and violent nature, Lyssa slipped her greedy palms under Rita's frame, her fingers curling around Carrick's rack from below. The Net Nasty tightened her grip around the pert bosom of the Jungle native, drawing yelps of protest, Rita flailing as she tried to separate herself but unable, a captive of the grapevines. Lyssa helped herself to another squeeeeeze, Carrick squealing from the assault.
Hands full with the smaller wrestler’s vulnerable curves, Lyssa wedged the point of her chin into the hollow of Rita’s left shoulder so she could murmur in her ear. “What’s wrong puppy, starting to feel the pressure?” Zahn clenched her fingers to emphasize the point. “Or are you starting to realize just how badly you’re outclassed down here in the Big LeagEEERRRRHHH!”
Enduring the claw holds for now, Rita reached backward with both hands and managed to latch onto Lyssa’s oily locks. Wrenching and pulling with all the ferocious enthusiasm of her nickname, Carrick huffed, “You’re not better than me, honey! I’ll make you admit it before I give you your hair baAAARRRRHHH!”
Lyssa abandoned one of her grips to drag her nails across Rita’s eyes with a malicious flourish! Pulling free of the other brunette’s grasp with an angry hiss, Zahn got to her feet and shoveled Rita onto her back just to THUMP a stomp into the pit of her stomach. Carrick ‘OOOFFFFHED’, then settled out into a breathless starfish, which meant Lyssa had free reign to back up a few steps (she was positioned to the rookie’s right) and charge in, the Black Hat leaving her feet in a high vertical leap that ended with her butt CRUSHING Rita’s pert bust!
On her feet while Carrick was still shuddering in the aftermath of the first Zahn Bomb, Lyssa stepped over, walked a few steps, then whipped around and came back to deliver a second megaton Butt Bomb! Rita’s legs kicked up so Zahn shoved them down before she got up and strutted beyond the brunette’s feet. The crowd knew what was coming by now, but that still didn’t stop them from groaning (or cheering) when the Tweeting Tyrant landed a third breast-mashing Zahn Bomb.
“Almost done now!” Lyssa sneered to the FAWNatics once she’d risen to her full height. “Think she can take it?” They started to respond and she shook her head ‘no’ at once. “Sorry, that was rhetorical. None of your opinions matter unless they’re attached to a like or dislike.”
Swatting those domineering glutes as she padded away from Rita’s head, Lyssa spun around on one heel, raced down her back-trail and took to the skies for a final Zahn Bomb to Rita’s poor chest. Landing full force on Carrick’s tits, the Vine Vixen hooked the brunette’s stems in a Reverse Matchbook when they shot into the air, then slid backward to seal her glutes atop the Pit-Bull’s gaping, winded features. “Welcome to Orlando, beeyotch.” Lyssa smirked in the midst of settling into her grind. “Hope you enjoy the view!”
The greasy Pit floor molded around the flattened Jungle native, Rita 'bombed' into oblivion. Likewise, Lyssa's backside fit like a glove atop the Pit-Bull's features. Zahn, having driven the air from Rita's lungs, made sure her foe couldn’t tug in any replacement oxygen between her lips, only the thin spandex covering her derriere available for suckling. Panicking beneath the rump of the Facebook Fiend, Rita's arms flailed uselessly, Lyssa making sure the limbs were harmless by snatching each at the wrist and forcing them to her side.
"Hashtag faceful," Lyssa growled as she watched Rita's torso start to twitch in front of her. "Hashtag neverseenagain," she added, making sure the muffled cries from below weren’t loud enough for the official to hear and that Rita's hands couldn’t tap against the plastic of the floor. Instead, Carrick spasmed to stillness, Lyssa remaining on her throne for a few extra ticks before peeling her booty off the glistening and snoozing features.
Lyssa rose to a full kneel, tossing Rita's arms wide. She SLAMMED her ass back down, her foe barely reacting to a final bomblet. Lyssa stretched her arms high and wide "Hashtag StoptheLatinas", Zahn announced loud and clear, well aware of the growing rep for Latina lovelies to be considered oil royalty. "The Zahn Bombs are stacked and waiting to be dropped, bytches!"
********
ISABELLA KANE:
Snuggled in tight against her opponent’s oil-slicked back, Isabella Kane, that savage stalker of the Crimson Path, pressed her left hand against the side of Sammie Sinclair’s straining face and PUSHED down no less than a dozen times in perhaps half as many seconds. Sammie groaned aloud and redoubled her efforts to escape the deep-sunk Abdominal Stretch, Isabella slipped an index finger into the side of the smaller brunette’s mouth and puuuuuuuuuulled up in an agonizing fishhook. “This venue is perhaps a bit more… let’s say tawdry, than I’d usually prefer.” Kane noted over Sammie’s slightly garbled shrieking. “Yet I can’t deny there’s a certain appeal in humiliating you in an arena where there is quite literally, nowhere to run.”
SAMMIE SINCLAIR:
Bent nearly double over Isabella’s posted thigh, Sammie did her best to ignore the pain in her mouth (and ribs) so she could grab hold of her attacker’s left ankle. “Nuuuuhhhh… never run from you, Kane.” the former Lightweight champion huffed. “Especially not after what you did to my sisERRRHHH!”
Isabella curled her right hand into a spade and raaaaaaaaaaked it over Sinclair’s midsection before settling into a belly claw, the Scarlet Scoundrel making sure to gouge her index finger deep into Sammie’s midsection. “Don’t bore me with stories I’ve already told, little girl. I want to hear all about YOUR suffering! It’s exquisite, isn’t it?”
Sammie grunted in both pain and effort as she tried to reverse her predicament. But the Upstart Supreme was having a devil of a time with the significantly bigger and stronger Kane and when Isabella sank her talons deeper in Sinclair's ivory-skinned tummy, she yelped loud enough to make some of her army of supporters nervous.
The Pit removed an awful lot of Sammie's aerial assault and it had been showing for most of the fight, Kane grinding on her fellow Englishwoman. Isabella THUMPED a knee into Sammie's pert backside, drawing a yipping hop from the Golden Girl. With her arms occupied, Kane ground her chin into the nape of Sinclair's neck to create another pressure point in her effort to sap Sammie. But when it became clear the Little Sparrow was made of hard stuff and wouldn’t surrender, Isabella dismounted from the Stretch, placed her oily sole into the crack of Sammie's cheeks and disdainfully shoved Sinclair forward with a piston-like leg, the Upstart sliding ingloriously into the Pit wall then melting down into a crumpled heap.
Isabella observed with a domineering smirk. The Red Princess lined up a follow-up kick as Sammie made it to one knee in front of her, aiming her foot at Sinclair's right ribs. But when the pendulum swung, the Little Sparrow caught Kane's leg under an arm and rises to her vertically-challenged height. Sammie leg sweeps Isabella's planted stem out from under her and planted Lady Miriam's only child on the greasy blue plastic. Upstart Nation chanted ‘SAMM-EEE!’ as the beaming Brit raised Isabella's right leg and cracked a series of punts into the back of Kane's thigh, Isabella's face flushing in anger and pain.
Elbows sliding against the Pit floor as she fought for purchase, the prone Englishwoman endured no less than half a dozen more shots to the back of her right thigh before she managed to straighten up enough to shoot her left foot at the nattering little ninny’s crot-- Sinclair twisted aside to avoid the would-be Low Blow, went up on tiptoe and dropped to one knee, all the better to THUMP that bony joint into Kane’s hurtin’ thigh.
“Yeah, not so fun now is it, huh?” Sammie huffed when Isabella bounced a frustrated fist into the floor. “If you can’t take anymore you could always tap--”
Kane sat up again and would’ve taken the tip of Sinclair’s nose if the Little Sparrow hadn’t bounced back to verticality at the last second. “I will NEVER submit to you or the rest of your ill-born NNNNGGGH!”
Sammie surged forward and stamped down hard, the Upstart using every bit of her weight to stretch Kane’s sore thigh. “Best to watch your mouth with that sort of talk.” Sinclair suggested in the midst of tucking the other Briton’s ankle under her arm. “Unless you’re looking to test your flexibility in new and interesting ways.”
“Spare me your threats, traNO!” Kane dropped the ‘tude in favor of renewed squirming because Sammie muscled her onto her stomach and sat down hard on the small of her back. Cupping her free hand against Isabella’s left knee, the Golden Girl bounced her pert tush in the hollow of Kane’s back, then slid north until she was practically sitting on the arrogant Englishwoman’s shoulders.
“Tap out, Izzy!” Sammie demanded several seconds into the Half Crab. “Don’t make me touch your toes to your ear!”
The thought of a Kane surrendering to a Sinclair, or at least an English Kane, after all who could count those Irish moppets Maeve and Moira, couldn't be entertained for a second. Isabella shouted out a 'HELL NO' when the ref called from the rim of the Pit, asking the Red Princess if she wanted to give in. Misjudging the length of arm Kane possessed even while Sammie expertly used her foe's leg to torment Her Ladyship, Isabella was able to reach back and latch onto Sinclair's dark mop. She tugged the greasy, matted mane enough for the Golden Girl to lose her grip and her Crab, stumbling then slipping to her knees on the Pit floor.
Isabella scrambled and spun to likewise ended on her knees and the two Brits slapped together, their bikini-clad bodies smacking as they threw themselves against each other. Not surprisingly, on this playing field and position, the bigger Kane forced the Little Sparrow to slowly bend backwards until Isabella laid atop her, Sammie's thighs folded atop her calves. Sinclair huffed, her button nose scrunching with effort to dislodge Lady Isabella. But while Sammie squirmed she couldn’t budge Isabella off her folded frame. If there had been a chance for a pin-fall, Kane might have won then and there, but the Oil Pit required a KO or submission. Kane boops noses with Sammie, playing with the Upstart Supreme, before pulling her head back and roughly butting the bridge of Sammie's cute little beak.
The Headbutt set off fireworks behind Sinclair’s eyes, giving the malicious aristocrat all the time in the world to claim a domineering straddle atop the lightweight’s midsection. “You’re at least more durable than others who bear your miserable name.” Isabella huffed after a moment to tuck hair behind her ears. “Alas, durability only ensures more time for me to torture you in front of these ill-bred malcontents.”
“Errrrhhhh, do you even hear yourself?” Sammie groaned, her features twisted with the effort of trying to work her legs out from underneath her own torso. “You sound like the apprentice to a Bond villAAARRRRRRRRHHHHHHH!”
Kane ‘smecked’ a pair of claws against the Little Sparrow’s taut tummy, Isabella just digging in like she meant to scoop quit out by the handful. “Please refrain from polluting the air with that nonsense if you’re not going to offer a surrender.” she sniffed. “If you MUST make a sound, you have my permission to shriek at the top of your lu--”
Sinclair let out a convulsive grunt as her legs slid free and popped straight into the air! Attention devoted to her claws, Isabella couldn’t stop the Upstart from hooking those escaped stems under her biceps, nor could she stop Sammie from rolling her onto her shoulders in an impromptu Sunset Flip. With pins providing nothing more than a chance to show off, the Golden Girl sprang to her feet while Isabella somersaulted to all fours and reared back on her haunc-SMECK-THWHAP! Sammie charged, hopped and locked her legs around the penitent lovely’s noggin. Just like that she twisted back and laid out on her belly to drive the crown of her opponent’s skull into the floor with a Spike Hurricanrana!
Though the padding of the Pit floor protected Kane more than a collision with a standard mat, the impact was nonetheless enough to send the Red Princess flopping to her back with a glazed look in her eyes. Sammie popped to her feet to the roar of Upstart Nation. She settled in a stance next to Isabella's splayed body, pointed away from Kane and leapt into the air in a tight back flip. Somehow, the Little Sparrow took flight from her slippery perch and CRASHED down across her taut tummy across Kane's midriff. Lady Isabella jackknifes under the sparkle in the Golden Goliath's eyes then melted back to the Pit floor, gurgling.
Sammie shoved the stunned Kane to her chest and mounted her in a forward straddle of her foe's waistline. Sinclair crouches, posting one of Isabella's arms over her bended knee then doing the same on the opposite side. The Little Sparrow laced her fingers and cupped her hands under the chin of Her Ladyship then reels back, drawing Isabella in an agonizing arch with the Camel Clutch. The limber Upstart fell back into a partial bridge, tugging Isabella with her, forcing the Red Princess to eyeball the rafters. Sammie doesn't have to give Lady Izzy any ideas as Upstart Nation chants loud and clear what they think should happen next. "TAP...TAP...TAP"
From the edge of the Pit, the ref called down, “What do you say, Isabella? Tell me some--”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” Kane bellowed back, her usually meticulous enunciation considerably roughened by speaking through gnashing teeth. “I’d sooner reside in Orlando than surrender to this EEEERRRRRRRRRRHHHHHH!”
Sammie jostled the Chinlock back ‘n forth, wrenching her prey’s head this way and that even as she reared back on the Camel Clutch. She didn’t have the pure power of an Amara Singh, true, but the Golden Girl more than made up for it with peerless flexibility and boundless enthusiasm. “Not letting go, Izzy!” Sinclair sounded like her own jaw was clenched with the effort of the hold. “Better fight your way out if you don’t want to--”
Kane stopped pulling at Sammie’s hands to tap them instead, the befuddled Red Princess signaling her surrender with a trio of crisp swats.
Sammie relinquished her grip as soon as the bell sounded, the Upstart Supreme bounding to verticality on a quick burst of victorious adrenaline. Arms raised overhead in a jaunty ‘V’, Sammie offered a wave to all four sides of the arena before she came to a stop honed in on the camera overlooking the Pit. “Lookout all you bullies, baddies and brats! The Upstarts are coming to the Oil and we’re gonna clean up!”
********
GABBY MENDOZA:
Nursing her wounds from the devastating upset to America’s Sweethearts in the #1 Tag Contender’s match at March to War, made all the more stinging with the Sweethearts’ follow-up win against Collusion to take the titles, the reigning Oil Baroness slunk into the slippery stuff for May. But the hangover seemingly remained in full effect.
SOFIA GARCIA:
Facing Mendoza was another feisty Latina and returnee to the big leagues, Sofia Garcia. The Cuban had met an early end at All Hallows Evil, being eliminated first in a Fatal Four Way. It had always been a one-shot FAWN gig and then back to Maine, but the rookie’s clearly looking to make something more out of tonight’s golden and oily opportunity. Upsetting the current Baroness would certainly do just that and Sofia mostly wiped the plastic floor of the Pit with the out-of-sorts Gabby for the first five minutes.
On her right hip, tawny legs pressing against the lower spine and navel of Mendoza, Garcia gritted her perfect pearlies as she forced every bit of strength into her Scissors and got a mewl of pain and effort from Gabby as her reward, the bubble-blower fruitlessly prying at the flexing stems of Sofia.
“Don’t ever think you can coast, chica,” Garcia informed.
Gabby bitterly chomped on her pink wad of Bubblicious and was about to return verbal fire when another pulse from Sofia’s gams sent the limbs into tight relief and drew a groaning gasp from Mendoza.
Watching carefully from the edge of the Pit, Al Carpenter called down, “How you doing, Gabz? Need me to call for the--”
“HELL NO!” Mendoza barked. “I didn’t clip the Raven’s wings just to lose to this nobodUUUUNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHH!”
Sofia punished her with another squeeze, then cupped her hands beneath Gabby’s chin and pulled back to wrench her neck at a painful angle. “This *nobody* has got these people thinking upset, cutie.” Garcia chided. “And something tells me they’ll be chanting my name when I BEAT the chick that beat the Raveerrrrhhhhhh stop that!”
In no mood to play nice against this up-jumped Hooters waitress, Mendoza raaaaaaaaaked Sofia’s thigh again and again before settling in for a deep, greedy claw-grip on the other brunette’s left glute. “I didn’t just beat Lemarchand, bytch.” Gabby sneered. “I drove her out of the Pit for good! Just like I’m gonna do to MMMMMMPPPPHHHHHH!”
Garcia moved her hands up, pressing them tight against the Baroness’ mouth and nose! Forgetting all about her talons, Mendoza worked to prize the smother loose, which meant she wasn’t paying attention while Sofia worked them both back to a seated position. Snuggled in directly behind the other brunette with Scissors still squeezin’ away, the spirited newcomer relinquished the Palm Smother only to raise both hands high and CRAAACK them down on Gabby’s shoulders!
The Terrible Texan hissed in displeasure, then let out a startled yelp as Garcia began a tumbling barrel roll along the oily floor of the Pit! Mendoza went ass over teakettle half a dozen times in half as many seconds and though this particular predicament often ended in a pin attempt, the look on Mendoza’s mug told the FAWNatics she might belt out a submission if it could put a stop to the nauseating spin cycle.
The rotations got to the newcomer as well and the Cuban rolled to a stop looking a little queasy, though much better than the dizzied Mendoza. Gabby's sopped up her fair share of baby oil on her rumble around the Pit, dark hair matted and shiny. She ended in the same Scissors as the starting point and, when Sofia leaned back, the rookie lifted Gabby's greasy cheeks off the Pit floor, points them at the fans lucky enough to be on the rim of the Pit, and rammed them back to the blue plastic with a loud 'SQUERSH!‘
Though somewhat padded, pit floor to bikini-clad backside still prompted a sour face from the Babyfaced Killer. And a snarly Mendoza appreciated her position even less when Garcia snaked her arms around her foe's noggin from behind, securing a Sleeper grip. Sofia pressed her limbs hard across Gabby's carotid and temple and Mendoza shuddered and flailed like's she's in a deep fryer, the Texan knowing the danger she's in. Gabby tried to get to her feet but there's no purchase on the oily surface. She threw elbows but the lovely Latina behind deftly dodges. Some flutters of Gabby's eyelids put the FAWNatics on upset alert and encouraged Garcia to bear down all the more to send Gabby beddy-bye.
Some wit in the first few rows began a ‘NAP!’ chant and it wasn’t long before the whole building echoed with that somnolent demand. Mendoza heard it, albeit only vaguely, she was still trying to wrap her head around how this… this… curtain jerker was about to send her into the humiliating club known as ‘One and Done.’ Equally pained and embarrassed by this possibility, the Babyfaced Killer reached back with one hand and swatted / pushed at Sofia’s cheek. “Luuuuhhh… leggo bytch-facEEERRRNNNGGGH!”
Garcia jerked the Sleeper back and forth, the other brunette getting big and bawdy in her attempt to unseat the suffering Baroness. “You better watch your mouth around me, honey.” Sofia murmured once she’d dialed back the roughhousing. “If anyone in this Pit is looking like a bytch face, it’s gotta be--” Garcia abruptly twisted her head to the side, thus avoiding the wad of gum Mendoza tried to stick in her right eye. “Don’t think so, brat.” the rookie huffed. “Everyone’s keen to that nasty trick of yours now. It’s not gonna worEEERRRRRRHHH OOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!”
Unbeknownst to Sofia Garcia, Gabby Mendoza had loads of dirty tricks at her disposal, though the darkness of her ignorance began to lighten once the once the Froot Stripe Fatale wedged a hand between belly and back to clamp down with white-knuckled vigor between her opponent’s thighs.
Learning a tried-and-true lesson of FAWN that was only amplified when fighting in the Pit, there's more than one key to opening a door. The Crotch Claw perpetrated by G-Money was a lock-turner if ever there is one, Sofia's dark eyes blasting wide, her lips forming a silent and quivering 'O' as the desperate Gabby gouged her front trunks.
Garcia's legs popped wide and her arms slid from around Gabby's braincase. Not satisfied with simply gaining her freedom, Mendoza shot her cranium backward THUMPING a Headbutt into the rookie's chin. Sofia's noggin snapped back from the impact and she landed flat on her back with an oily squish. Her foe's legs elevated behind her, Gabby spun on the slippery plastic, never losing full contact with Sofia's throbbing center. Her digits dug into the traumatized togs of the Cuban, threatening to poke holes in the soaked spandex.
"You can submit to the Baroness now or learn just how out of your depth you really are," Mendoza growled. Sofia crunched her abs, ignoring the burning ache from her crotch and tried to pull Mendoza's limb toward her, perhaps going for a Triangle Choke, but the Babyfaced Baroness won't release. Still, when that failed, Sofia's in range to land a meaty open-hand smack across the shiny left cheek of her foe's baby face, turning it rosy in an instant before a forearm from Gabby's unoccupied arm leveled the rookie with a HEAVY craaack against that exposed jaw.
Finally showing a smile after the Forearm Smash put Garcia on the deck, Gabby sidled into place on the newcomer’s left flank without relinquishing her claw grip. “You really thought you were going to slither in here and put me to sleep? ME?” Mendoza flattened her free right hand into a paddle, raised it overhead and CRAAACKED a hard slap down on Garcia’s undefended chest!
Sofia cried out, tried to sit up and got the back of her head bounced against the floor for her efforts.
“Let me explain something to you, bikini meat.” The Terrible Texan settled her free hand over the other brunette’s face and bore down, digging in at both temples and all along the hairline with an agonizing Iron Claw. “Aside from ONE fluke loss, I am undefeated in this damned Pit. And as you can tell by these swank customized briefs,” Gabz stuck out her butt and gave it a wiggle to better show off the ‘Baroness’ legend emblazoned across the seat in bold golden strokes, “I’ve avenged that loss with interest. That makes ME the baddest woman in the Oil and sweetie, if the Baroness SAYS you’re a Bytch-Face…” Mendoza squeeeeeeeeeeeeeezed both claws until Sofia began to wail and writhe like a snake with a broken back.
“Then you are DAMNED WELL A BYTCH FACE! UNDERSTAND, CHICA?” She flipped hair out of her eyes and continued to ahem, press the attack against Garcia’s agonized undercarriage.
With Mendoza coming in from North and South, the rookie howled and floundered, the facade of bravado falling to the slippery plastic Pit floor. Sofia's greasy, tawny frame swept from side to side, trying vainly to shake free. Both of her palms encircled the wrist of Gabby's Iron Claw, but with gravity assisting Mendoza's effort and the claw into her foe's kitty taking an enormous toll, the most inexperienced member of Muy Caliente was crashing and burning under the flame of the Baroness.
"Squeal for me, chica!" Gabby demanded and Garcia couldn’t help herself.
So close to glory and now imploding when Gabby turned the notch up, Sofia started to hyperventilate from pain and despondence of having victory turned on her so quickly by the Babyfaced Killer.
"Now quit for me!" Mendoza dug her claws in deeper, simultaneously sending a sobbing shudder through the bikini-clad Cuban while the iron in the claw above started to drag her fellow Latina to the edge of unconsciousness.
Nodding in delight as she hauled the quit outta her opponent’s togs by the handful, Gabby abruptly released the Iron Claw so Sofia’s mug was clear when the Baroness swung a leg over and sat down on her greasy, gaping face! Feet braced against the sides of Garcia’s head, Gabz twined her toes in the other brunette’s hair and started to pull. Loosening the Crotch Claw just so she could SWAT at the other wrestler’s defenseless center, Mendoza looked up at the dismayed FAWNatics and chided, “Any of you idiots want to help me teach this loser my favorite song?”
Boos proved almost unanimous, yet Gabby’s ears were sharp and she didn’t miss the small, discordant thread of a few voices singsonging, ‘Quit Bytch Face Quit!”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Mendoza began to bounce in time with their rhythm, eventually adding her own voice to the growing chorus while punctuating the detonation of each Butt Bomb with another vile squeeze on Sofia’s white briefs.
“QUIT, BYTCH-FACE, QUIT!” Gabby sang it to the rafters, her smirk growing wider as Garcia’s nose went a little deeper with each landing. “QUIT, BYTCH-FACE, QUIT! QUIT, BYTCH-FACE, QU--”
Sofia slapped the floor with both hands, the overwhelmed tyro unable to bear the crushing pressure of Baroness buns a second longer. Mendoza paused, looked over one shoulder and grabbed a handful of the defeated wrestler’s hair. “Look at ‘em, bytch-face. I said look at ‘em!” she jostled Sofia’s head to emphasize the point. “I’M THE OIL BARONESS! AND DON’T YOU FORGET IT!”
Gabby looked up, fixing everyone at Pit-side with the ferocity of her gaze. “Don’t ANY OF YOU forget it.”
RITA CARRICK:
Not about to dignify such ignorance with a verbal reply, Lyssa Zahn planted both hands on the slippery floor of the Pit and pushed as high as her arms would allow. Doing so only increased the brawny band cinched around her skull, but the Tweeting Tyrant considered it a fair trade because it allowed her to slide one knee into place against the “UUUUUUNNNNGGGGGGHHHH!” Rita reared up beside the heavier battler, then pushed forward and dropped to her butt to SMECK-SLAP Zahn down flat on her belly once more! “Mouthy little bytch.” Lyssa growled as she resumed clawing and prizing at the newcomer’s knotted hands. “You’re going to f*cking canceled by the time I’m done with HEY, NO! NOOOEEERRRRRRHHHHHH!”
LYSSA ZAHN:
A round of surprised cheering from the Jacksonville crowd when Rita halved the Headlock long enough to stretch Lyssa’s left arm out and trap it between her thighs. Rather than resume the Headlock, Carrick secured her S-grip directly atop the Black Hat’s nose and wrenched back on a particularly energetic Crossface. “Cancelled?” Rita teased over the roar of capacity crowd. “Lyssa, I’m just getting started!”
Though the Pit hadn't yet made it to Bangor and FAWN's feeder, Carrick looked awfully comfortable in tugging the head and neck of the Tweetstormtrooper to uncomfortable angles, hoping to make it equally uncomfortable for Bethany Christian to put her on the shuttle north after tonight. Breaking her grip, she slipped her left arm tight against Lyssa's throat and used her right like a club, clunking her forearm across temple and brow. The beatdown after the stretch-out of the big leaguer had tongues wagging, most especially Zahn's who threatened violent reprisals.
But Lyssa had precious few answers when Rita took a seat on the base of her spine after having captured both wrists, drawing Lyssa's arms back as Rita made enough room to place her soles against the back of Zahn's skull. "All thumbs, aren't ya?" Carrick grunted as she forced Lyssa's face into the slippery blue plastic covering the Pit floor. "All about the cyber fights, but get in a good scrap and you're licking up baby oil." Rita began to punctuate, lifting her feet and banging them down, right, left, right, left atop the rear of Lyssa's braincase, bouncing her noggin against the Pit floor enthusiastically.
Growling, then yowling as Carrick played hateful Footsie with the back of her skull, Zahn continued to rock and writhe until--THERE!
She pulled her right hand free of Rita’s clutches and promptly raaaaaaaaaaaaked her nails down the length of the smaller wrestler’s shin. Rita grimaced but didn’t panic and she certainly didn’t give up her mount. Clambering forward onto her knees, she pulled Lyssa’s left arm beneath her own throat, then leaned back again and bap-bap-bap-BAPPED the ball of her left foot against the back of the Black Hat’s head.
Good for cheers, bad for Zahn’s temper, as the notoriously mercurial Pintrest Pin-Up powered to her knees in spite of the Straightjacket Choke. Expression showing a tinge of concern as her one-time mount turned into something more like a pony ride, Rita abruptly stood up and dropped into a deep squat, just THUMPING her butt against the small of Zahn’s back! Lyssa went down with a heavy grunt, Carrick’s pert tush keeping her pinned to the floor like a bug on a ca-- the Insta-Gator twisted out from beneath her opponent and scrambled to a seat of her own.
Smile gone now, Rita collected the bigger brunette’s free hand and cinched it across her neck, thus doubling down on the Straightjacket. Knee wedged between Zahn’s shoulders, Rita pulled back on the modified Chinlock and muttered, “You MAY be stronger than me, Lys. But there’s NO WAY you can match my tenacity. They don’t call me the Pit-Pull for nothing!”
Lyssa growled at the ridiculous moniker. After all, only her mountain of net-related nicknames were worthy of tongue-tips. Unfortunately this bytch from Bangor was rising to the occasion and the tight loop against each carotid had an increasingly nervous Zahn blinking her lids wide to clear her blurring vision. There's some relief when Rita let up on the pressure driving the bony cap of her knee between Lyssa's shoulderblades. But Zahn quickly found it's only so the Jungle native can rise to her feet, straightjacket still applied, and place her right foot behind the cranium of the Pinterest Pin-up.
"Don't even think..." Lyssa's idle threat was cut short as Carrick curbstomped Zahn's features into the Pit floor. Several inches of padding provided relief from the impact but when Rita let loose of her foe's upper limbs, it's clear Lyssa's been rocked. The generally surly brunette slithered along the oily floor, weakly locomoting forward while Rita pumped her fist toward the lucky FAWNatics who ring the enclosure.
"Did someone say something about canceled? Hashtag hasbeen!" Rita shouted, moving alongside Lyssa. Carrick kicked at her rival's ribs until she convinced Zahn to roll to her back. It's then Carrick leapt, legs extended, planning to drive what air remains out of Lyssa's lungs with a Senton across her foe's lightly tanned and glistening tummy. yt
Rita’s aim never faltered, unfortunately her target vanished beneath the armor of Lyssa’s upraised knees, leading her to THWHUMP spine-first atop the upraised joints! Pushing / launching the visiting tyro away with a savage kick of her folded legs, Zahn rolled to one knee and treated herself to several deep breaths all while keeping a very close eye on the grimacing Pit-Bull. “Throwing hashtags at me, nobody? That’s bold, I’ll give you that. But you know what bold gets you against me?” Carrick didn’t answer fast enough for the Black Hat’s liking, so Zahn stood up, stomped over to the prone brunette and leapt up just to THAWHAP down atop Rita’s chest with a gaudy Splash!
Give Carrick credit, she twisted to one side beneath Lyssa’s bulk to ensure she couldn’t be pinned, unfortunately this didn’t do her much good when the Snap Chat Savage buried both hands in her hair and bounced her face against the slippery floor no less than half a dozen times! “Got anything to say now, loser?” Zahn got to her feet and forced Rita to do the same with several violent tugs. “Strike that, it can wait until later. Right now it’s time I set your pathetic ass to Airplane Mode!”
With that she dipped a shoulder, slipped that arm between Carrick’s stems and muscled her onto her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry. Controlling Rita at thigh and neck, Lyssa turned a single slow circle to better display her prey. After that her speed increased exponentially, Zahn twirling and twirling despite the dangerous oil puddled and sloshing around her feet!
After a half dozen spins, the slippery surface finally got the better of Zahn, but Lyssa managed to use the stumble to fall into a squishy Samoan Drop that drew an 'OOOOH' from the crowd and an ’UNGH!’ from the shook Jungle native. Lyssa was a little dizzied by placing herself in Airplane Mode, reaching her haunches and shaking her skull to clear cobwebs.
Beside her, Rita's having trouble even staying on all fours. She started to lean forward and faceplanted with no further help from the Tweetstormtrooper. Pushing to her feet, Zahn braced a foot between the raised butt cheeks of the Pit-Bull and thrust her foe forward into a face-first sprawl. Climbing into a full-body pin of Rita's back, the boisterous brunette grapevined her legs around those of Carrick and stretched them wide, taking away any base Rita hoped to create and forcing the Pit-Bull to grit her teeth and mewls in discomfort, Lyssa testing her foe's flexibility.
Showing her vile and violent nature, Lyssa slipped her greedy palms under Rita's frame, her fingers curling around Carrick's rack from below. The Net Nasty tightened her grip around the pert bosom of the Jungle native, drawing yelps of protest, Rita flailing as she tried to separate herself but unable, a captive of the grapevines. Lyssa helped herself to another squeeeeeze, Carrick squealing from the assault.
Hands full with the smaller wrestler’s vulnerable curves, Lyssa wedged the point of her chin into the hollow of Rita’s left shoulder so she could murmur in her ear. “What’s wrong puppy, starting to feel the pressure?” Zahn clenched her fingers to emphasize the point. “Or are you starting to realize just how badly you’re outclassed down here in the Big LeagEEERRRRHHH!”
Enduring the claw holds for now, Rita reached backward with both hands and managed to latch onto Lyssa’s oily locks. Wrenching and pulling with all the ferocious enthusiasm of her nickname, Carrick huffed, “You’re not better than me, honey! I’ll make you admit it before I give you your hair baAAARRRRHHH!”
Lyssa abandoned one of her grips to drag her nails across Rita’s eyes with a malicious flourish! Pulling free of the other brunette’s grasp with an angry hiss, Zahn got to her feet and shoveled Rita onto her back just to THUMP a stomp into the pit of her stomach. Carrick ‘OOOFFFFHED’, then settled out into a breathless starfish, which meant Lyssa had free reign to back up a few steps (she was positioned to the rookie’s right) and charge in, the Black Hat leaving her feet in a high vertical leap that ended with her butt CRUSHING Rita’s pert bust!
On her feet while Carrick was still shuddering in the aftermath of the first Zahn Bomb, Lyssa stepped over, walked a few steps, then whipped around and came back to deliver a second megaton Butt Bomb! Rita’s legs kicked up so Zahn shoved them down before she got up and strutted beyond the brunette’s feet. The crowd knew what was coming by now, but that still didn’t stop them from groaning (or cheering) when the Tweeting Tyrant landed a third breast-mashing Zahn Bomb.
“Almost done now!” Lyssa sneered to the FAWNatics once she’d risen to her full height. “Think she can take it?” They started to respond and she shook her head ‘no’ at once. “Sorry, that was rhetorical. None of your opinions matter unless they’re attached to a like or dislike.”
Swatting those domineering glutes as she padded away from Rita’s head, Lyssa spun around on one heel, raced down her back-trail and took to the skies for a final Zahn Bomb to Rita’s poor chest. Landing full force on Carrick’s tits, the Vine Vixen hooked the brunette’s stems in a Reverse Matchbook when they shot into the air, then slid backward to seal her glutes atop the Pit-Bull’s gaping, winded features. “Welcome to Orlando, beeyotch.” Lyssa smirked in the midst of settling into her grind. “Hope you enjoy the view!”
The greasy Pit floor molded around the flattened Jungle native, Rita 'bombed' into oblivion. Likewise, Lyssa's backside fit like a glove atop the Pit-Bull's features. Zahn, having driven the air from Rita's lungs, made sure her foe couldn’t tug in any replacement oxygen between her lips, only the thin spandex covering her derriere available for suckling. Panicking beneath the rump of the Facebook Fiend, Rita's arms flailed uselessly, Lyssa making sure the limbs were harmless by snatching each at the wrist and forcing them to her side.
"Hashtag faceful," Lyssa growled as she watched Rita's torso start to twitch in front of her. "Hashtag neverseenagain," she added, making sure the muffled cries from below weren’t loud enough for the official to hear and that Rita's hands couldn’t tap against the plastic of the floor. Instead, Carrick spasmed to stillness, Lyssa remaining on her throne for a few extra ticks before peeling her booty off the glistening and snoozing features.
Lyssa rose to a full kneel, tossing Rita's arms wide. She SLAMMED her ass back down, her foe barely reacting to a final bomblet. Lyssa stretched her arms high and wide "Hashtag StoptheLatinas", Zahn announced loud and clear, well aware of the growing rep for Latina lovelies to be considered oil royalty. "The Zahn Bombs are stacked and waiting to be dropped, bytches!"
********
ISABELLA KANE:
Snuggled in tight against her opponent’s oil-slicked back, Isabella Kane, that savage stalker of the Crimson Path, pressed her left hand against the side of Sammie Sinclair’s straining face and PUSHED down no less than a dozen times in perhaps half as many seconds. Sammie groaned aloud and redoubled her efforts to escape the deep-sunk Abdominal Stretch, Isabella slipped an index finger into the side of the smaller brunette’s mouth and puuuuuuuuuulled up in an agonizing fishhook. “This venue is perhaps a bit more… let’s say tawdry, than I’d usually prefer.” Kane noted over Sammie’s slightly garbled shrieking. “Yet I can’t deny there’s a certain appeal in humiliating you in an arena where there is quite literally, nowhere to run.”
SAMMIE SINCLAIR:
Bent nearly double over Isabella’s posted thigh, Sammie did her best to ignore the pain in her mouth (and ribs) so she could grab hold of her attacker’s left ankle. “Nuuuuhhhh… never run from you, Kane.” the former Lightweight champion huffed. “Especially not after what you did to my sisERRRHHH!”
Isabella curled her right hand into a spade and raaaaaaaaaaked it over Sinclair’s midsection before settling into a belly claw, the Scarlet Scoundrel making sure to gouge her index finger deep into Sammie’s midsection. “Don’t bore me with stories I’ve already told, little girl. I want to hear all about YOUR suffering! It’s exquisite, isn’t it?”
Sammie grunted in both pain and effort as she tried to reverse her predicament. But the Upstart Supreme was having a devil of a time with the significantly bigger and stronger Kane and when Isabella sank her talons deeper in Sinclair's ivory-skinned tummy, she yelped loud enough to make some of her army of supporters nervous.
The Pit removed an awful lot of Sammie's aerial assault and it had been showing for most of the fight, Kane grinding on her fellow Englishwoman. Isabella THUMPED a knee into Sammie's pert backside, drawing a yipping hop from the Golden Girl. With her arms occupied, Kane ground her chin into the nape of Sinclair's neck to create another pressure point in her effort to sap Sammie. But when it became clear the Little Sparrow was made of hard stuff and wouldn’t surrender, Isabella dismounted from the Stretch, placed her oily sole into the crack of Sammie's cheeks and disdainfully shoved Sinclair forward with a piston-like leg, the Upstart sliding ingloriously into the Pit wall then melting down into a crumpled heap.
Isabella observed with a domineering smirk. The Red Princess lined up a follow-up kick as Sammie made it to one knee in front of her, aiming her foot at Sinclair's right ribs. But when the pendulum swung, the Little Sparrow caught Kane's leg under an arm and rises to her vertically-challenged height. Sammie leg sweeps Isabella's planted stem out from under her and planted Lady Miriam's only child on the greasy blue plastic. Upstart Nation chanted ‘SAMM-EEE!’ as the beaming Brit raised Isabella's right leg and cracked a series of punts into the back of Kane's thigh, Isabella's face flushing in anger and pain.
Elbows sliding against the Pit floor as she fought for purchase, the prone Englishwoman endured no less than half a dozen more shots to the back of her right thigh before she managed to straighten up enough to shoot her left foot at the nattering little ninny’s crot-- Sinclair twisted aside to avoid the would-be Low Blow, went up on tiptoe and dropped to one knee, all the better to THUMP that bony joint into Kane’s hurtin’ thigh.
“Yeah, not so fun now is it, huh?” Sammie huffed when Isabella bounced a frustrated fist into the floor. “If you can’t take anymore you could always tap--”
Kane sat up again and would’ve taken the tip of Sinclair’s nose if the Little Sparrow hadn’t bounced back to verticality at the last second. “I will NEVER submit to you or the rest of your ill-born NNNNGGGH!”
Sammie surged forward and stamped down hard, the Upstart using every bit of her weight to stretch Kane’s sore thigh. “Best to watch your mouth with that sort of talk.” Sinclair suggested in the midst of tucking the other Briton’s ankle under her arm. “Unless you’re looking to test your flexibility in new and interesting ways.”
“Spare me your threats, traNO!” Kane dropped the ‘tude in favor of renewed squirming because Sammie muscled her onto her stomach and sat down hard on the small of her back. Cupping her free hand against Isabella’s left knee, the Golden Girl bounced her pert tush in the hollow of Kane’s back, then slid north until she was practically sitting on the arrogant Englishwoman’s shoulders.
“Tap out, Izzy!” Sammie demanded several seconds into the Half Crab. “Don’t make me touch your toes to your ear!”
The thought of a Kane surrendering to a Sinclair, or at least an English Kane, after all who could count those Irish moppets Maeve and Moira, couldn't be entertained for a second. Isabella shouted out a 'HELL NO' when the ref called from the rim of the Pit, asking the Red Princess if she wanted to give in. Misjudging the length of arm Kane possessed even while Sammie expertly used her foe's leg to torment Her Ladyship, Isabella was able to reach back and latch onto Sinclair's dark mop. She tugged the greasy, matted mane enough for the Golden Girl to lose her grip and her Crab, stumbling then slipping to her knees on the Pit floor.
Isabella scrambled and spun to likewise ended on her knees and the two Brits slapped together, their bikini-clad bodies smacking as they threw themselves against each other. Not surprisingly, on this playing field and position, the bigger Kane forced the Little Sparrow to slowly bend backwards until Isabella laid atop her, Sammie's thighs folded atop her calves. Sinclair huffed, her button nose scrunching with effort to dislodge Lady Isabella. But while Sammie squirmed she couldn’t budge Isabella off her folded frame. If there had been a chance for a pin-fall, Kane might have won then and there, but the Oil Pit required a KO or submission. Kane boops noses with Sammie, playing with the Upstart Supreme, before pulling her head back and roughly butting the bridge of Sammie's cute little beak.
The Headbutt set off fireworks behind Sinclair’s eyes, giving the malicious aristocrat all the time in the world to claim a domineering straddle atop the lightweight’s midsection. “You’re at least more durable than others who bear your miserable name.” Isabella huffed after a moment to tuck hair behind her ears. “Alas, durability only ensures more time for me to torture you in front of these ill-bred malcontents.”
“Errrrhhhh, do you even hear yourself?” Sammie groaned, her features twisted with the effort of trying to work her legs out from underneath her own torso. “You sound like the apprentice to a Bond villAAARRRRRRRRHHHHHHH!”
Kane ‘smecked’ a pair of claws against the Little Sparrow’s taut tummy, Isabella just digging in like she meant to scoop quit out by the handful. “Please refrain from polluting the air with that nonsense if you’re not going to offer a surrender.” she sniffed. “If you MUST make a sound, you have my permission to shriek at the top of your lu--”
Sinclair let out a convulsive grunt as her legs slid free and popped straight into the air! Attention devoted to her claws, Isabella couldn’t stop the Upstart from hooking those escaped stems under her biceps, nor could she stop Sammie from rolling her onto her shoulders in an impromptu Sunset Flip. With pins providing nothing more than a chance to show off, the Golden Girl sprang to her feet while Isabella somersaulted to all fours and reared back on her haunc-SMECK-THWHAP! Sammie charged, hopped and locked her legs around the penitent lovely’s noggin. Just like that she twisted back and laid out on her belly to drive the crown of her opponent’s skull into the floor with a Spike Hurricanrana!
Though the padding of the Pit floor protected Kane more than a collision with a standard mat, the impact was nonetheless enough to send the Red Princess flopping to her back with a glazed look in her eyes. Sammie popped to her feet to the roar of Upstart Nation. She settled in a stance next to Isabella's splayed body, pointed away from Kane and leapt into the air in a tight back flip. Somehow, the Little Sparrow took flight from her slippery perch and CRASHED down across her taut tummy across Kane's midriff. Lady Isabella jackknifes under the sparkle in the Golden Goliath's eyes then melted back to the Pit floor, gurgling.
Sammie shoved the stunned Kane to her chest and mounted her in a forward straddle of her foe's waistline. Sinclair crouches, posting one of Isabella's arms over her bended knee then doing the same on the opposite side. The Little Sparrow laced her fingers and cupped her hands under the chin of Her Ladyship then reels back, drawing Isabella in an agonizing arch with the Camel Clutch. The limber Upstart fell back into a partial bridge, tugging Isabella with her, forcing the Red Princess to eyeball the rafters. Sammie doesn't have to give Lady Izzy any ideas as Upstart Nation chants loud and clear what they think should happen next. "TAP...TAP...TAP"
From the edge of the Pit, the ref called down, “What do you say, Isabella? Tell me some--”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” Kane bellowed back, her usually meticulous enunciation considerably roughened by speaking through gnashing teeth. “I’d sooner reside in Orlando than surrender to this EEEERRRRRRRRRRHHHHHH!”
Sammie jostled the Chinlock back ‘n forth, wrenching her prey’s head this way and that even as she reared back on the Camel Clutch. She didn’t have the pure power of an Amara Singh, true, but the Golden Girl more than made up for it with peerless flexibility and boundless enthusiasm. “Not letting go, Izzy!” Sinclair sounded like her own jaw was clenched with the effort of the hold. “Better fight your way out if you don’t want to--”
Kane stopped pulling at Sammie’s hands to tap them instead, the befuddled Red Princess signaling her surrender with a trio of crisp swats.
Sammie relinquished her grip as soon as the bell sounded, the Upstart Supreme bounding to verticality on a quick burst of victorious adrenaline. Arms raised overhead in a jaunty ‘V’, Sammie offered a wave to all four sides of the arena before she came to a stop honed in on the camera overlooking the Pit. “Lookout all you bullies, baddies and brats! The Upstarts are coming to the Oil and we’re gonna clean up!”
********
GABBY MENDOZA:
Nursing her wounds from the devastating upset to America’s Sweethearts in the #1 Tag Contender’s match at March to War, made all the more stinging with the Sweethearts’ follow-up win against Collusion to take the titles, the reigning Oil Baroness slunk into the slippery stuff for May. But the hangover seemingly remained in full effect.
SOFIA GARCIA:
Facing Mendoza was another feisty Latina and returnee to the big leagues, Sofia Garcia. The Cuban had met an early end at All Hallows Evil, being eliminated first in a Fatal Four Way. It had always been a one-shot FAWN gig and then back to Maine, but the rookie’s clearly looking to make something more out of tonight’s golden and oily opportunity. Upsetting the current Baroness would certainly do just that and Sofia mostly wiped the plastic floor of the Pit with the out-of-sorts Gabby for the first five minutes.
On her right hip, tawny legs pressing against the lower spine and navel of Mendoza, Garcia gritted her perfect pearlies as she forced every bit of strength into her Scissors and got a mewl of pain and effort from Gabby as her reward, the bubble-blower fruitlessly prying at the flexing stems of Sofia.
“Don’t ever think you can coast, chica,” Garcia informed.
Gabby bitterly chomped on her pink wad of Bubblicious and was about to return verbal fire when another pulse from Sofia’s gams sent the limbs into tight relief and drew a groaning gasp from Mendoza.
Watching carefully from the edge of the Pit, Al Carpenter called down, “How you doing, Gabz? Need me to call for the--”
“HELL NO!” Mendoza barked. “I didn’t clip the Raven’s wings just to lose to this nobodUUUUNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHH!”
Sofia punished her with another squeeze, then cupped her hands beneath Gabby’s chin and pulled back to wrench her neck at a painful angle. “This *nobody* has got these people thinking upset, cutie.” Garcia chided. “And something tells me they’ll be chanting my name when I BEAT the chick that beat the Raveerrrrhhhhhh stop that!”
In no mood to play nice against this up-jumped Hooters waitress, Mendoza raaaaaaaaaked Sofia’s thigh again and again before settling in for a deep, greedy claw-grip on the other brunette’s left glute. “I didn’t just beat Lemarchand, bytch.” Gabby sneered. “I drove her out of the Pit for good! Just like I’m gonna do to MMMMMMPPPPHHHHHH!”
Garcia moved her hands up, pressing them tight against the Baroness’ mouth and nose! Forgetting all about her talons, Mendoza worked to prize the smother loose, which meant she wasn’t paying attention while Sofia worked them both back to a seated position. Snuggled in directly behind the other brunette with Scissors still squeezin’ away, the spirited newcomer relinquished the Palm Smother only to raise both hands high and CRAAACK them down on Gabby’s shoulders!
The Terrible Texan hissed in displeasure, then let out a startled yelp as Garcia began a tumbling barrel roll along the oily floor of the Pit! Mendoza went ass over teakettle half a dozen times in half as many seconds and though this particular predicament often ended in a pin attempt, the look on Mendoza’s mug told the FAWNatics she might belt out a submission if it could put a stop to the nauseating spin cycle.
The rotations got to the newcomer as well and the Cuban rolled to a stop looking a little queasy, though much better than the dizzied Mendoza. Gabby's sopped up her fair share of baby oil on her rumble around the Pit, dark hair matted and shiny. She ended in the same Scissors as the starting point and, when Sofia leaned back, the rookie lifted Gabby's greasy cheeks off the Pit floor, points them at the fans lucky enough to be on the rim of the Pit, and rammed them back to the blue plastic with a loud 'SQUERSH!‘
Though somewhat padded, pit floor to bikini-clad backside still prompted a sour face from the Babyfaced Killer. And a snarly Mendoza appreciated her position even less when Garcia snaked her arms around her foe's noggin from behind, securing a Sleeper grip. Sofia pressed her limbs hard across Gabby's carotid and temple and Mendoza shuddered and flailed like's she's in a deep fryer, the Texan knowing the danger she's in. Gabby tried to get to her feet but there's no purchase on the oily surface. She threw elbows but the lovely Latina behind deftly dodges. Some flutters of Gabby's eyelids put the FAWNatics on upset alert and encouraged Garcia to bear down all the more to send Gabby beddy-bye.
Some wit in the first few rows began a ‘NAP!’ chant and it wasn’t long before the whole building echoed with that somnolent demand. Mendoza heard it, albeit only vaguely, she was still trying to wrap her head around how this… this… curtain jerker was about to send her into the humiliating club known as ‘One and Done.’ Equally pained and embarrassed by this possibility, the Babyfaced Killer reached back with one hand and swatted / pushed at Sofia’s cheek. “Luuuuhhh… leggo bytch-facEEERRRNNNGGGH!”
Garcia jerked the Sleeper back and forth, the other brunette getting big and bawdy in her attempt to unseat the suffering Baroness. “You better watch your mouth around me, honey.” Sofia murmured once she’d dialed back the roughhousing. “If anyone in this Pit is looking like a bytch face, it’s gotta be--” Garcia abruptly twisted her head to the side, thus avoiding the wad of gum Mendoza tried to stick in her right eye. “Don’t think so, brat.” the rookie huffed. “Everyone’s keen to that nasty trick of yours now. It’s not gonna worEEERRRRRRHHH OOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!”
Unbeknownst to Sofia Garcia, Gabby Mendoza had loads of dirty tricks at her disposal, though the darkness of her ignorance began to lighten once the once the Froot Stripe Fatale wedged a hand between belly and back to clamp down with white-knuckled vigor between her opponent’s thighs.
Learning a tried-and-true lesson of FAWN that was only amplified when fighting in the Pit, there's more than one key to opening a door. The Crotch Claw perpetrated by G-Money was a lock-turner if ever there is one, Sofia's dark eyes blasting wide, her lips forming a silent and quivering 'O' as the desperate Gabby gouged her front trunks.
Garcia's legs popped wide and her arms slid from around Gabby's braincase. Not satisfied with simply gaining her freedom, Mendoza shot her cranium backward THUMPING a Headbutt into the rookie's chin. Sofia's noggin snapped back from the impact and she landed flat on her back with an oily squish. Her foe's legs elevated behind her, Gabby spun on the slippery plastic, never losing full contact with Sofia's throbbing center. Her digits dug into the traumatized togs of the Cuban, threatening to poke holes in the soaked spandex.
"You can submit to the Baroness now or learn just how out of your depth you really are," Mendoza growled. Sofia crunched her abs, ignoring the burning ache from her crotch and tried to pull Mendoza's limb toward her, perhaps going for a Triangle Choke, but the Babyfaced Baroness won't release. Still, when that failed, Sofia's in range to land a meaty open-hand smack across the shiny left cheek of her foe's baby face, turning it rosy in an instant before a forearm from Gabby's unoccupied arm leveled the rookie with a HEAVY craaack against that exposed jaw.
Finally showing a smile after the Forearm Smash put Garcia on the deck, Gabby sidled into place on the newcomer’s left flank without relinquishing her claw grip. “You really thought you were going to slither in here and put me to sleep? ME?” Mendoza flattened her free right hand into a paddle, raised it overhead and CRAAACKED a hard slap down on Garcia’s undefended chest!
Sofia cried out, tried to sit up and got the back of her head bounced against the floor for her efforts.
“Let me explain something to you, bikini meat.” The Terrible Texan settled her free hand over the other brunette’s face and bore down, digging in at both temples and all along the hairline with an agonizing Iron Claw. “Aside from ONE fluke loss, I am undefeated in this damned Pit. And as you can tell by these swank customized briefs,” Gabz stuck out her butt and gave it a wiggle to better show off the ‘Baroness’ legend emblazoned across the seat in bold golden strokes, “I’ve avenged that loss with interest. That makes ME the baddest woman in the Oil and sweetie, if the Baroness SAYS you’re a Bytch-Face…” Mendoza squeeeeeeeeeeeeeezed both claws until Sofia began to wail and writhe like a snake with a broken back.
“Then you are DAMNED WELL A BYTCH FACE! UNDERSTAND, CHICA?” She flipped hair out of her eyes and continued to ahem, press the attack against Garcia’s agonized undercarriage.
With Mendoza coming in from North and South, the rookie howled and floundered, the facade of bravado falling to the slippery plastic Pit floor. Sofia's greasy, tawny frame swept from side to side, trying vainly to shake free. Both of her palms encircled the wrist of Gabby's Iron Claw, but with gravity assisting Mendoza's effort and the claw into her foe's kitty taking an enormous toll, the most inexperienced member of Muy Caliente was crashing and burning under the flame of the Baroness.
"Squeal for me, chica!" Gabby demanded and Garcia couldn’t help herself.
So close to glory and now imploding when Gabby turned the notch up, Sofia started to hyperventilate from pain and despondence of having victory turned on her so quickly by the Babyfaced Killer.
"Now quit for me!" Mendoza dug her claws in deeper, simultaneously sending a sobbing shudder through the bikini-clad Cuban while the iron in the claw above started to drag her fellow Latina to the edge of unconsciousness.
Nodding in delight as she hauled the quit outta her opponent’s togs by the handful, Gabby abruptly released the Iron Claw so Sofia’s mug was clear when the Baroness swung a leg over and sat down on her greasy, gaping face! Feet braced against the sides of Garcia’s head, Gabz twined her toes in the other brunette’s hair and started to pull. Loosening the Crotch Claw just so she could SWAT at the other wrestler’s defenseless center, Mendoza looked up at the dismayed FAWNatics and chided, “Any of you idiots want to help me teach this loser my favorite song?”
Boos proved almost unanimous, yet Gabby’s ears were sharp and she didn’t miss the small, discordant thread of a few voices singsonging, ‘Quit Bytch Face Quit!”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Mendoza began to bounce in time with their rhythm, eventually adding her own voice to the growing chorus while punctuating the detonation of each Butt Bomb with another vile squeeze on Sofia’s white briefs.
“QUIT, BYTCH-FACE, QUIT!” Gabby sang it to the rafters, her smirk growing wider as Garcia’s nose went a little deeper with each landing. “QUIT, BYTCH-FACE, QUIT! QUIT, BYTCH-FACE, QU--”
Sofia slapped the floor with both hands, the overwhelmed tyro unable to bear the crushing pressure of Baroness buns a second longer. Mendoza paused, looked over one shoulder and grabbed a handful of the defeated wrestler’s hair. “Look at ‘em, bytch-face. I said look at ‘em!” she jostled Sofia’s head to emphasize the point. “I’M THE OIL BARONESS! AND DON’T YOU FORGET IT!”
Gabby looked up, fixing everyone at Pit-side with the ferocity of her gaze. “Don’t ANY OF YOU forget it.”